l--it is full of wonderful
things!"

If she chose to give him reminders of aspects which hurt, he would do
the same!

"It sounds most interesting," she agreed, but had not the courage to
make any remarks about the chapel or ask what it contained.

The clock over the gateway struck twelve--and she laughingly started to
walk very fast toward the house.

"Madame Imogen and Lord Fordyce will be ravenous--come, let us go
quickly--I can even run!"

So they strode on together with the radiant faces of those exalted by
an exciting game, on the way passing Pere Anselme.

And in the cool tapestried antechamber of the _salle-a-manger_, they
found Henry looking from the window a little wistfully, and a pang of
self-reproach struck both their hearts.

CHAPTER XI

All through breakfast, Sabine devoted herself sedulously to Lord
Fordyce--and this produced two results. It sent Henry into a seventh
heaven and caused Michael to burn with jealous rage. Primitive instincts
were a good deal taking possession of him--and he found it extremely
difficult to keep up his role of disinterested friend. It must be
admitted he was in really a very difficult position for any man, and it
is not very easy to decide what he ought to have done short of telling
Henry the truth at once--but this he found grew every moment more hard
to do. It would mean that he would have to leave Heronac immediately. In
any case, he must do this directly. Sabine admitted, even to him, that
she was his wife. They could not together agree to leave Henry in
ignorance, that would be deliberately deceiving, and would make them
both feel too mean. But while nothing was even tacitly confessed, there
seemed some straw for his honor to grasp; he clutched at it knowing its
flimsy nature. He had given himself until the next day and now refused
to look beyond that. Every moment Sabine was attracting him more
deeply--and bringing certain memories more vividly before him with
maddening tantalization.

But did she love Henry? Of that he could not be sure. If she did, he
certainly must divorce her at once. If she did not--why was she wishing
to marry him? Henry was an awfully good fellow, far better than he--but
after all, she was his wife--even though he had forfeited all right to
call her so, and if she did not love Henry, no friendship toward him
ought to be allowed to stand in the way of their reunion. It is
astonishing how civilization controls nature! If we put a